Midwinter's Eve
by SashaLikaMusica
Summary: She shouldn't be here, but she's an adult; she's going to do what she sees fit. Besides, she's never exactly been one to follow the rules. Companion piece to a future Dark Lily (Luna) Potter fic that's in-progress. M because the story it belongs to will be.


**A/N: Part of what prevented the last update of Blind Faith. This is an outtake from a dark Lily-centric story I plan on publishing soon, so it might not make a lot of sense, but I just wanted to get it out there. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

She's definitely not supposed to be here.

It's two AM on the first night of the Christmas holidays, and she should have gotten on the Hogwarts Express this morning – scratch that, _yesterday_ morning; she should be home in her room with James and Al making one hell of a racket as they rejoice in their newfound freedom from work; Rose sulking and slamming doors because everyone is ignoring her, Hugo pestering her every minute to play Seeker since James refuses, and Victoire and Teddy snogging vigorously in the corner of every room she enters. She should be home trying to avoid her father's suspicious stare and her mother's worried looks. She should be home with the people she hates to love and loves to hate, trying to find some peace in the massive old house.

It makes her heart ache a little as she thinks of it, because as loud and persistent and infuriating as they all are, they're her family, and she loves them. She feels a little guilty that she's depriving them of a few hours of her company, especially when she'll be leaving so soon; she feels guilty, but she's not even remotely sorry. There are enough of them that it'll take them a little while to realize that she's missing, and by the time they do, she'll be back. This is only for a few hours, she justifies silently, even as her mind goes flying out the side of her skull. She brings it back with a wrench and a tug, reminding herself that she's got to keep her head. It's all very well to disappear for a night now, along with a couple hours on Christmas Eve and New Year's, if she can swing it; she's done it before, and they haven't seemed to notice, but if she stops showing up for breakfast, somebody – probably Albus or Rose – is going to cotton on to the fact that she's been missing meals and keeps showing up with crooked robes and Nargles in her hair.

 _That would go down well_ , she snickers to herself as something in her goes soaring off again. She would love to see her father's face if he realizes that while his other children are safely tucked in their beds at home on a chilly December night, she's shirtless up against a wall in the bedroom of his old arch-nemesis's son.

It's not like he could do anything about it anyways, she reasons, as she sends out a silent summoning charm to bring her necklace back from where Scorpius has tossed it onto the floor. _Oh, no you don't, not by Morgana's ass; that was my grandmother's_. She's technically an adult now, even if she only came of age a couple of weeks ago; the Trace is off her, at any rate – they Apparated here from Hogsmeade, so she knows by the lack of her Uncle Percy's appearance that they can no longer track her magic. Besides, the Manor's defenses are strong ever since the fall of the Dark Lord almost three decades ago; she's pretty sure that the Ministry couldn't reach her even if they wanted to.

That realization reminds her of something, and she pushes at Scorpius's shoulder to get his attention.

" _What?"_ he mumbles into her hair, and she fights an eye-roll at his response.

" _We're supposed to be doing something, Score."_ They're whispering, even though they really don't need to be; his parents are at Azkaban paying Lucius his annual Christmas visit, and Narcissa Malfoy knows better than to interrupt her grandson when he brings visitors upstairs. She's a cynical, overprotective woman, but Lily has to give her credit for not being a snoop and giving privacy even when it isn't due.

" _We are doing something, Scarlet,"_ he counters, and nips provocatively at her earlobe. She suppresses a wince, not at the bite, but the mention of her old nickname. She hasn't been Scarlet in years.

"Don't call me that." She's louder in her emphasis, and he pulls back reluctantly to scan her face for discomfort. She immediately pulls over a mask of disapproval to hide the sudden prickling behind her eyes. That it works is immediately evident, and inwardly, she sighs; he's never been able to read past her careful acting, or else he's never bothered. Ignatius always saw straight through it, always called her out on it, until she felt like it was a federal offense. She hated it then, but now, she almost misses it.

Thinking of Ignatius brings a knot into her throat, and she has to shut her eyes in a long blink in order to will it away. _Not now, Lil._

"Lily . . . We _are_ doing something," Scorpius corrects himself, and this time, she can't help rolling her eyes. Her name sounds odd and ironic on his lips, almost like a child's title for a hero.

She refrains from letting out a derisive hiss, but only just. For a moment, she actually thought he was going to say something worth listening to. It's not that he's shallow or weak-minded – quite the opposite. He's sweet, and astute, and brilliant enough, but he's also a _boy,_ despite being four years her senior,and too caught up in his own clever dreams to pay much attention to anything else. It's frustrating for her sometimes. He's kind, and a warm body, and fun for fooling around, but he's no match for her mind; not in the way Maura is.

 _Not like Iggy was_.

Frustrated with herself, she pushes that aside and focuses on the eager-faced boy in front of her who, despite having three Death Eater relatives and the promise of infamously cowardly genetics, definitely has more to lose than she does.

"Score, I'm talking about the meeting. You know, the reason that I'm _here_." She feels a little bad when he winces at her wording, but she can't quite bring herself to apologize. She knows that he wants to be the reason she pays such frequent visits to his home, and sometimes, she pretends she is – for both of their sakes, not just his – but they both know that it can only ever be half the truth.

"Right. The meeting. I get it." He steps back completely, and the faint light from the window hits him, illuminating his pale, sculpted face. He yanks his shirt back over his head and tries to toss her hers, but she beats him to it with another silent summoning charm. She doesn't know why he doesn't use magic more; sometimes it's almost like he wants to pretend that it doesn't exist. "That stuff's important, Lil. We should get going."

"Score – " she starts, but he shakes his head almost violently, and is out the door before she figure out what it is she was planning to say. A little angrily, she tugs her shirt back on, almost ripping it in her vehemence, and stalks out after him.

They're all gathered in the entrance hall, murmuring lowly and shaking snow from the folds of their robes – Cassie, Octavia, and the others. Percival is conspicuously absent, and Othello's space is filled by Lotus; everyone's presence is welcome, but dark eyes meet Lily's first through the crowd, and she feels her haughtiness slip for a moment as she thunders down the stairs and elbows her way past the rest of them to crash into the elder girl's embrace.

"Maura."

"I missed you, Baby S." Lily clenches her fingers around the short hairs at the nape of the woman's neck stares over her shoulder at the opposite wall. She doesn't press her face close, as she used to, but simply holds on tightly, feeling the tiny scar in the middle of her left hand throb dully in recognition.

"I know you did." They hold on for another minute before stepping back and eyeing each other warily. Their last meeting was catastrophic, after all, and Lily did aim several Killing Curses at Maura's head, but they've reconciled since then through letters – or at least, as much as reconciliation is possible with them, which Lily has come to discover is more than is probably wise.

Being thus aware, they take a moment to scrutinize each other, haughty violet scanning perpetually dangerous black, before Maura lets out a hearty snort.

"You look like a slut, S; you know that?" Lily throws back her ginger head and laughs uproariously. Her leather skirt is tiny, and her black tank top is at least three sizes too small, so yes, she knows, but at the moment, exposure is a necessary evil. It keeps Scorpius's interest, at least, and they need that right now. Sometimes she feels uncomfortable – it's not like she doesn't care for the boy at all – but his participation is necessary, so she's willing to resort to whatever methods necessary to ensure that. It's something she learned from Maura, in fact.

"You haven't changed a bit, Maur," she teases, shooting the elder girl a quick spell to rid her hair of snow. The others immediately clamor for one of her wandless drying charms, legendary since her first day at Hogwarts, and she grins as she spins, casting spells in every direction. Hogwarts is comfortable and fun, but it's long since lost its original appeal of providing her with an outlet for her power. The last of that departed when Octavia and Othello graduated; it's good to be back among people who appreciate her talents.

"Nothing like a good Lily Charm to get your blood flowing!" Lotus crows from his perch on the banister. "We missed you, Little S!"

"I'll drink to that!" Cassandra confirms above the roar of approval that meets the young man's words. "Firewhiskeys all around!" Lily grins as she catches the conjured bottle that flies straight into her hand; with an impish laugh, she unscrews the top, wandless, and sends the cap skimming across the crowd to knock playfully at Lotus's cheek. He retorts with a chuckle and a tickling hex, which she easily dodges. They join the others in raising their bottles to the ceiling, and Lily's voice rings strongly as they echo Maura's toast:

" _The Greater Good!"_

* * *

She Apparates directly into her bedroom knowing that they're more likely to hear her rustling in the hallway if she enters through the front door. It's nearing breakfast time, the sun just beginning to peek over the edges of the buildings across the street and cast tiny rays of warmth around her room. As she strips hurriedly out of her cloak and Muggle outfit and dons a threadbare pair of pajamas, she takes a moment to absorb the feeling of being back in her old bedroom. As she spent a great deal of the previous summer away, it's been a while since she's slept in it; someone – likely Ginny or Hermione – took the time to change her sheets for her. She quickly fluffs them up so that they look slept in, and pausing to check her reflection above the mantle, hurries from the room.

Only a few of them are awake at this hour – Victoire, Rose, Hermione, and Harry – but she's always been known to be an early riser. There won't be anything suspicious in her early arrival.

"Morning all," she greets in a faux sleepy voice, shuffling over to the stove to pour a mug of coffee. She's not exaggerating her need for the beverage – she's been up all night, and is in desperate need of a stimulant if she wants to make it through a day of family festivities.

"Morning," the others intone, only briefly looking up to acknowledge her appearance. Hermione, however, busy cleaning the countertops, shoots her a warm smile.

"Good morning, Lily," she says cheerfully, stopping her work briefly to give her niece a hug. "I didn't see you come home last night; where did you get off to?" Lily's stomach clenches a little. _They noticed_. She feels herself stiffen the slightest bit as Hermione's pulls away, but she replies casually, without a trace of hesitation. Sometimes she feels like she should be ashamed; she's an impeccable liar.

"Christmas shopping – do you know how many hints Al's been dropping about a dragonhide jacket?" she says conspiratorially. To her relief, Hermione laughs.

"Don't I!" she agrees. "He's been pestering everyone day and night. The number of owls Rose has gotten, you'd think we're running a menagerie." Lily giggles in response, retiring to the table with her coffee, and finds herself facing her father for the first time since July.

"Lily Billy," he greets, and though he beams widely at her, his eyes are solemn and worried. She falters slightly as she hugs him, but carefully maintains a smile.

"Dad." His gaze flits over her face, tracing the high cheekbones and angular nose, lingering on the little lines around her violet eyes. For the first time in many years, she finds herself wishing that she looked something like him; maybe it would provide something of a disguise. She's wasted years on glamour charms to hide the premature lines of worry that crease her forehead; right now, she knows that her features are full and rosy with the combination of health and elation and the chilly air. She also knows that he can see through it almost as easily as she can conceal it from everyone else.

She settles into the seat opposite him and takes a sip from her mug, draping herself over several chairs. It's been a long time since she sat in this kitchen; too long, maybe. As much as she loves Hogwarts, she's missed the comforts of home. She takes another contemplative sip as she watches Albus drag his feet into the room and over to the cupboard to pour his cereal. It's nice to be home, surrounded by the infuriating people she calls family. She hums to herself quietly in contentment.

"So, how was the Malfoys'?" She chokes on her coffee when Harry breaks the silence with the casual question. Spluttering, her tongue on fire, she chances a glance at his face, and is surprised to see it perfectly stoic. He's absorbed in the Daily Prophet, not even looking her way. Her eyes flicker to the stove, where Hermione is occupied with oatmeal, and to the corner stuffed with armchairs, where Victoire and Rose are dozing over their tea. Briefly, she considers lying, but just as quickly casts the idea aside; he'll know. He always knows.

"Fine," she responds instead, though stiffly, and he only nods, face inexpressive, as he calmly turns a page.

"Good. That's good."


End file.
